


Romance in the 21st century

by another_maggies



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, AU: Toni's job is promoting a dating app, F/F, inspired by real life events, srsly bumble tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-02 05:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19192591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_maggies/pseuds/another_maggies
Summary: Toni's been hired to date people and vlog about it for a year - what could go wrong?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO, apparently, Bumble is hiring A WOMAN to go on dates all over the world for a year as a JOB. Whilst, from a feminist standpoint, I'm appalled - it does make for a cute fic, I hope :)

“You gotta be kidding, Tones.”

Toni frowns. She expected judgement for this choice, yes. But not from her best friend. “It’s not _that_ ridiculous,” she grumbles half-heartedly.

 

(Because _yes_ , it is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And sexist. And biphobic. All kinds of things that, usually, she’d reject. But the bills keep coming and the jobs don’t.)

 

She thought her best friend would understand.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he says, tone apologetic. “It just doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He’s right, it doesn’t.

(Or maybe it does. Everything’s changed.)

 

“I know it’s… unusual.” The word slips curiously off her tongue, as if she’s testing it. Unusual. It doesn’t quite fit.

Sweets snorts. “You could call it that.”

“I just…” Toni runs a hand through her hair.

 

(They asked her to colour it, so her queerness will be ‘more visible’. A year ago, she would have refused. A day ago, she booked an appointment to get it dyed pink. Ombre. They wouldn’t settle for less and she couldn’t fight for more. She’s so goddamn tired.)

 

“It might be my last shot, you know?” Her voice is quiet, but the confession rings loudly in her ears. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud.

Suddenly, it feels real.

The following silence is heavy with unspoken words.

 

(You’re so talented, Toni.)

_We value your choice, but we work digital now._

(If anyone will make it out of Riverdale, it’s you.) _T_

_he palette is just too… simple._

(Graduating from NYIP with honours, Antoinette Topaz, 21, is also the youngest of her class…)

_Don’t call us, we’ll call you._

 

Toni’s failed.

“I need to do this, Sweets. I gotta try,” she says, but there’s no bite to her words, no drive.

_Photographer’s block… such a shame, she was so promising…_

He nods. “Okay, Toni. Okay.”

 

* * *

Toni likes London. She didn’t think she would, not after she’s lived in New York for close to a decade. When she goes on vacation (not that she’s had the opportunity to go a lot, recently) she usually prefers the great outdoors. Lone tracks where she can ride her bike for hours on end.

But London… London is different.

It is, in one word, unique.

 

Martyn takes her up to Skygarden.

Usually, you have to book your space a month in advance. Not them. Martyn’s dad owns the place.

You would think something like this would impress Toni, but at this point, hardly anything does. (She’s also become a little cynical about love. Or maybe a lot.)

Her equipment alerts security at the entrance, but Martyn valiantly gets her through the check in and into an elevator that takes them up 1, 2, 3…

Toni doesn’t pay attention to the numbers. She wishes she would have had her camera to capture the moment. Her fans would have loved it.

 

Skygarden is beautiful.

Not from a botanical perspective – in Rio, Vitor took her to Jardim Botânico, so she knows what a proper botanical garden looks like. But the view from Skygarden is fantastic.

She can see all of London. The tower bridge she walked across with Grace on Monday. St. Paul’s, river Thames… It’s the perfect wrap after her week spent dating the people of London.

(To be fair, Martyn is the first ‘proper’ Londoner, born and raised. But then Toni herself would rather call herself a New Yorker than anything else.)

The prices are outrageous, but it’s not like she has to pay. And when the lights come up and the sun goes down, for the first time she feels like it would be time to stay.

(She doesn’t say that, though. She just laughs at whatever joke her date has made and takes a selfie for her story.)

 

Martyn walks her back to her hotel, which isn’t far, but far enough that taking the underground would have made more sense.

Once the camera’s turned off after their kiss goodbye, he lingers.

“I really enjoyed my time with you… didn’t think I would but…” He shrugs.

Toni smiles, genuinely. “Yeah. Me too. I really like this city.”

“Yeah. London’s the best.”

“I hate to disagree, but…”

“New Yorker, I know.” Martyn tips his imaginary hat. Toni never thought she’d feel attracted to a redhead.

 

The sky is dark. You can’t see stars above the city.

(In Riverdale, you could. They would go up to Sweetwater River, lie on the beachside and make up tales for the stars they recognized. Somehow, none of them ever took any interest in Greek mythology.)

Now that all her equipment is back in the bag, all technology Toni is left with is her watch. She checks it. Her flight is in ten hours.

Somehow, London makes her feel more risqué than usual.

“Fancy a cuppa?”

 

Martyn sends her a text the next morning. It reads:

_Thank you for last night_

It reads more, but Toni stops after she’s read these five words and quickly deletes the text. Then she blocks and deletes his number, his insta, every possible way of virtual connection they still have. At least she doesn’t need to bother with the app herself. Her boss always immediately blocks her dates after.

(Hopefully, he won’t be mad for how far she took things last night. It’s just been so long and she’s been so goddamn tired.)

She sighs and takes a step forward in the queue. “One large mocha for Annie,” she requests, the old nickname slipping over her lips more easily every time she uses it.

Who would have thought that the only coffee she’d ever have by herself at 26 would be at airports?

 

* * *

 

 

Toni’s been on over 50 dates but the first real connection she feels is in May when she’s getting her colour retouched in Luxembourg.

The salon is quite busy, which makes it all the more unlikely for her to interact with the redhead seated on the other end of the room. And yet, she does.

 

First, she hears her voice. It’s melodic. Nice. But that isn’t what catches Toni’s attention. It’s the accent.

(She didn’t think she’d feel homesick. Fuck, she didn’t even think she could feel something like homesickness. And yet she finds herself lying on bed at night wishing there was no eight-hour difference to account for so she could just call somebody and hear the sound of proper English for once.)

“I am aware of the time difference, Karen, and I’m resenting the notion of you having to bear the crutch of Katie’s mistake, but I do require these papers in court, or an innocent man will go to prison. So, I need you to pick them up right away. Your overtime will be financially compensated, _of course_ , don’t fret.”

Weirdly, although she is speaking with an American accent, the woman’s English appears, overall, more Shakespearian to Toni. In any case, she’s intrigued.

And when she catches the redhead’s gaze in the mirror, she’s a goner.

 

“Qu’est ce que vous regardez?”

Finding herself even more lost by the use of the foreign language, Toni blinks. But for some reason, she keeps looking at her anyway. Which, to another hairdresser’s dismay, causes the redhaired beauty to spin around in her chair.

(It doesn’t end there. She gets up, struts across the room. Toni is mesmerized, frozen in place not only by the hands that are currently completing their delicate work on her hair but by the brown eyes that remain firmly on hers through it all.)

Finally, a hand (long, red nails) is placed on her shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

 

An appropriate reaction, of course, would have been an apology. Maybe even a little fear or anger for the way the redhead has just intruded Toni’s personal space.

(“I don’t need sexual harassment training,” she’d huffed. Her boss just raised an eyebrow. “Honey, if even one of these idiots claims you’ve put your hand over theirs at a date and they didn’t want it, this will go up in flames. Trust me. You’ll need it.”)

Needless to say, Toni doesn’t react in that way. _Appropriately_.

“Do you know your breathtakingly beautiful?” Is what she goes with instead.

 

Despite the magnitude of the words in any circumstance, they are just what’s on tip of her tongue. Honest, innocent.

The redhead blinks, again. Her tongue darts forth between her lips, grazing her teeth briefly. She drops her hand from Toni’s shoulder and puts her phone back to her ear.

Toni didn’t even realize she was still on the phone.

“Karen? I’m afraid I’ll have to call you back.”

After hanging up, the redhead doesn’t put her phone away, but instead, extends it to Toni in silent invitation.

It’s all quite bizarre. This is the first time that dating random people for the previous four months comes in handy for Toni. At this point, surreal is more like her new normal anyway. She puts in her number and returns the phone to its owner.

“Fantastic,” the redhead praises, smiling ear to ear, “I’ll call you.”

And strangely, she does.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A triology, just like Dark. Damn, I loved Dark but it's the first show I loved I don't feel compelled to write fanfiction for, except for RuPaul's Drag Race, BUT it did give me inspiration to finally finish this. The third part was a bit tricky, the other two have been written for ages. Buckle up and enjoy some angst and fluff!

“Maybe she could get a profile and you could match? Like, you’d only have to pretend for one date.”

 

Toni sighs, runs a hand over her face. She’s got to remember it’s not her best friend’s fault that he’s offering options she’s already considered and dismissed. The time difference has her tired as well. If it wasn’t for the fact that she absolutely _has to_ talk to somebody about this, she’d be in bed with her girlfriend.

“She needs to keep a low profile. People are already out to get her anyway. If this gets out… Shit, I don’t know. They’ve used her family against her before.”

 

“What do you mean they’ve-” There’s an abrupt pause, then, a sound of recognition: “Oh.”

 

Then: “Oh my god. Oh my god, you’re dating _the_ Cheryl Blossom??”

“Mind keeping it down, Sweets? I’m trying to keep a low profile here.”

“Low profile? Are you kidding? Wait till I tell Fangs! Remember he spent hours waiting in front of Scotus when the Firestein-”

“Yep! I know, she’s famous. She’s great. But for now, she’s gotta stay between the two of us,” Toni snaps.

It does its purpose: shutting him up. She doesn’t feel good about it anyway.

“Shit, Sweets. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

 

After another beat of silence, she can almost hear him nod. “It’s okay. I get it.” He inhales. “So. Her getting on the app is not an option.”

“Nope.” Toni pops the ‘p’ and turns around slightly to watch their object of discussion. The latter is fast asleep. Cheryl’s a deep sleeper, Toni’s learned that. She’s learned a lot of things about her over the last couple of weeks.

 

 “I take it you and Red have talked about it?”

Raising a brow at the unfamiliar nickname, Toni raises a brow: “Red?”

“Can’t exactly call her by her real name if we’re trying to keep a low profile. Fangs will catch on as soon as Cher slips over my lips,” her friend explains easily.

“I think he’ll think of another Cher first, to be honest.”

“Really? Who would that be?”

Toni chuckles, quietly. Although the volume wouldn’t bother her sleeping beauty. “Sorry. I forget that you’re straight sometimes.”

“No bother, I forget that I’m straight sometimes.”

 

It’s mesmerizing. Before this call, Toni was lying in bed. Dreading tomorrow, unable to sleep. Now, she feels at ease. Simple. As if they were back in Riverdale, flipping stones across Shadow Lake and talking shit about the jocks.

 

“I miss you,” she mutters.

“I miss you too, Tiny. But hey. It’s only seven more months, huh?”

It really is seven and a half. Toni doesn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Yeah,” she tells him instead, “Only a bit over half a year now. Not too long.”

 

Cheryl keeps telling her the same. “ _It won’t be long, ma cherié_ ,” she promises in between kisses stolen beneath floppy hats and huge sunglasses. “ _We’ll be just fine_.”

Sometimes, Toni wonders whether Cheryl is actually talking to her, or, rather, herself.

 

“How does Red feel about it?,” Sweets asks, as if on cue. In another lifetime, he might have been a psychic.

“She’s very understanding.” Toni runs a hand through her hair. It’s almost been a month since Luxembourg. She should have gotten a retouch yesterday, but in light of Cheryl’s sudden arrival those plans went down the drains.

“And?”

He knows her to well. She shouldn’t have called him. (She had to.)

“I think she might… _dislike_ the situation more than she shows.”

 

After all, the redhead has just surprised her by spontaneously turning up in the hotel lobby this morning. And given the time Toni left, it must have been an early flight. Which means that as soon as Toni told her she was getting sick she must have gotten on a plane-

\- But that’s for Cheryl to know and share whenever she wants to. “ _I missed you_ ,” was all the explanation she was willing to offer this morning, anyway.

 

“Well, to be fair, it’s hardly ideal,” Sweets comments.

“It’s not.”

 

And damn, it’s frustrating! They spent years living in the same city. Only a subway ride apart. But, of course, they couldn’t meet then. They had to meet now. Now, when Toni’s not allowed to date Cheryl because of a contract she signed believing there wasn’t anything left out there for her, and Cheryl’s can’t openly date Toni because it would put a target on the latter’s back.

If there’s one thing Toni’s learned from Money Heist, hired killers are dirt cheap around her next destinations.

 

“So… what are you gonna do?,” Sweets asks. Apparently, he’s come to the same conclusion as she has:

“I don’t know.”

 

* * *

When Cheryl picks up after the third ring, relief washes over Toni.

“TT. How do you fare, mon tresor?”

“How do _I_ fare?” She runs a hand through her hair, pondering her response.

“Toni, are you okay? Your breath sounds laboured.”

It’s such a Cheryl thing to say. Toni can’t stop the tears from coming. “I-I…”

“Babe. Are you okay? I’m worried.”

“Worried? Shit, Cheryl! I…” In an attempt to shake it all off, Toni shakes her head.

 

( _Shots fired in New York courtroom. Five injured, two dead, two in critical condition_.)

 

“I thought you were…”

It hurts too much to finish the sentence. Even just in her head.

 

“I’m fine, Toni,” Cheryl says, voice soft and gentle. “Don’t worry.”

She’s _fine_. Cheryl’s fine. Toni’s bawling like a baby.

 

“Babe…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Toni says, wiping feverently at her eyes. “I was just so worried. It popped up on my news feed and I…”

“I know. I’m sorry, Toni. They had to take my phone and it took Karen a hot minute to get to-” She halts, briefly. “To get to me.”

“To get to where?”

There’s no answer.

“Cher? Where are you?”

“Don’t freak out.”

Toni huffs. “We’re kinda past that, babe.”

Cheryl sighs. “I got grazed by a bullet.”

“You _what_?”

“It’s a minor injury, Toni, please-”

 

“No.” Toni shakes her head. This isn’t right. “You’re in NYC getting shot, while I’m protected by a bodyguard 24/7 in Zimbabwe? That’s just…”

“Toni, it is _really_ minor. I only went to the hospital for protocol, really. It didn’t even need any stitches. I promise, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

 

(Only six months now.)

 

Toni bangs her fist against the bathroom stall, but there’s no force to it. The tears keep running down her cheeks and she just feels so frustrated. Helpless.

“Babe…” Cheryl’s voice is like the softest touch to her scalp. What Toni would give to be able to touch her girlfriend right now! “Don’t beat yourself up. I’m gonna be fine. Veronica is taking me home. She’s sworn to cater to my every wish and whim since she’s the one who convinced me to take the case in the first place. So, you really don’t need to worry your pretty head.”

 

It’s stupid, but Toni doesn’t want Veronica to be there. Because _she_ should be there. _Toni_ should be there, taking Cheryl home, making her stay in bed, cooking hot soup for her despite hot soup having absolutely no effect on bullet wounds.

(Toni remembers Cheryl’s fingers stroking the dent in her thigh, telling her the scars of her gang member past are beautiful.)

(Toni will remember to find the dent in Cheryl’s arm when they see each other again. She will remember to stroke it, to kiss it. To tell Cheryl she’s beautiful.)

 

“I love you, Cher.”

“I love you, too, TT. I think I-” The last sentence is muffled, left unfinished. Then: “Ronnie! Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

 

While she doesn’t quite catch all of their conversation, Toni can only imagine how extra Veronica must be behaving. Chances are the Lodge industries heiress has never set foot into a public hospital before. Definitely not into an Emergency Room.

“Yes… no… Yes, you can ask the nurse at the reception… No, they gave me some… Okay. Okay, give me a minute… TT?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about that. Veronica just made her grand entrance,” Cheryl says quietly. The offended “ _I heard that_ ” indicates her whisper voice went to waste.

Even though she’s been crying a hot minute ago, Toni finds herself chuckling. Her girlfriend’s best friend sure is something else. “I figured.”

“I will have to go now, before Ronnie murders the staff.”

It’s not surprising, and yet, selfishly, Toni wishes they could talk for a bit longer.

“Okay,” she says, in spite of herself.

“I’ll text you when I get home?”

Toni nods. “But only if you feel up to it. If you’re tired, you should rest.”

“I _want_ to talk to you,” Cheryl replies. Toni can picture her pout.

She thinks about saying something else, but nothing comes to mind.

 

“Okay, I really have to go now. She’s asked for the manager. And you think _my_ life’s surreal.”

“Your life is surreal,” Toni chimes in immediately.

“Touché.” For a beat, Cheryl just breathes.

 

(Toni misses it. She hates waking up to an empty bed. She hates that they gave her a bodyguard who’s watching her like a hawk, limiting their conversations to texts and changing her background picture to one sans Cheryl. She wants Cheryl in her background picture. She wants Cheryl in her bed. She misses Cheryl. Misses how she breathes next to her.)

 

“I love you, TT.”

“I love you, too, Cher,” Toni says.

Then they hang up and Toni goes back outside, where her bodyguard and date are waiting.

 

* * *

 _Of course_ , Cheryl makes sure that they meet in Paris next. She is a romantic at heart like that. Toni loves it. Loves her.

She only wishes she could enjoy it more, hide them less.

 

Her scalp itches beneath the pitch-black wig she’s put on over the tight braids which have been giving her a headache ever since she got them done.

Then, there’s her fans. Sending her encouraging messages after every post. Saying they can relate to all her failed dates. Telling her she’ll find someone, eventually.

Toni’s never liked lying. And she’s coming up to four months of constant lies.

 

Not only to her fans, but to her friends. Her family.

 

(It takes a week on the street before Toni comes knocking on Fangs’ door. And even then, she only does it, because it’s pouring, and she’s got a good excuse as to why she’s got to a) come in, and b) stay.

Fangs sees right through it.

He never mentions it. Not that day. Not after.)

 

At least, Sweet Pea knows now. Apparently, he has met both Cheryl, – whom he calls ‘Red’ even in person, despite how illogical it is to use codenames as nicknames –, and even her friend Veronica, who Toni has only ever seen on her cracked phone screen.

When Sweets told her, Toni felt... odd.

It’s not that she’s jealous of him. She’s happy her best friend and her girlfriend get along. Of course, she is. It’s just that the way it happens is not how Toni’s pictured it happening.

 

“ _Don’t worry, mon amour_ ,” Cheryl reassures when the traveller voices her concerns, “ _Not too long ago, a relationship between two women was considered deviant. It is within our hands to reject the ideas dictated to us. What is normal to some, does not have to be our normal. We’re not meant to be ordinary. We’re… sensational_.”

Yet, Toni can’t help but wish for the night she could have spent worrying over the way she was supposed to greet Cheryl’s friends upon meeting (Hug? Handshake? Bisous?), holding tightly onto Cheryl’s waist while trying to decipher words whispered around them (A photographer? I didn’t even know she was a lesbian. Riverdale? Where the hell is that?), anxiously awaiting their goodbye to see whether Cheryl would want her to stay the night or not (I think it would be better if we didn’t-

 

“Toni?”

She feels her hand, squeezing her hand. Their hands. Together.

 

“Uh? Sorry, babe, I was thinking.”

“Clearly,” Cheryl confirms, but there’s no bite to it. The elevator goes down 7, 6, 5... It reminds Toni of the one in Skygarden.

Cheryl’s thumb brushes against her knuckle, ever so gently. She’s always gentle with her.

 

“Are you still worried? We don’t have to go out.”

Toni shakes her head. “No! I mean… no. Why go through all the trouble to stay in?”

She pats her wig. Cheryl gives her a small smile.

“If it makes you feel anxious, we really don’t have to. I’ll be fine staying here with you all day. I’ll be _more_ than fine.”

The implication isn’t missed by Toni, who’s pupils increase ever so slightly. Nevertheless, she shakes her head again.

 

Even if they make their own rules for this relationship, Toni’s reluctant to let it slip into purely physical contact whenever they are in the same place. After all, she wants this to work when they are both permanently back in New York.

(Forever.)

 

“No, I’m okay, Cher, I promise. I was just lost in thought.”

Cheryl gives her a thoughtful look, but, for whatever reason Toni is blissfully oblivious to, lets it slip. “I think you’re gonna love Paris. It’s outrageously beautiful. Très magnifique.” She gives her a wink, obviously not oblivious to Toni’s love for her French.

“It’s also the first city where you’ll be my first date,” Toni deadpans.

 

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from?

(Freudian slip?)

 

Before Toni can even begin to apologize, she feels the grip on her hand tighten. When she looks up at her, Cheryl looks less like the woman she woke up next to, and more like the woman she’s seen on tv.

“It’s an honour,” she says. It doesn’t sound like it.

 

Sometimes, Toni is not so sure Cheryl _actually_ believes that they can build their relationships completely on their own terms.

But once that radiant smile reappears as she allows her girlfriend to lead her along her favourite Rues, Avenues and Places, Toni pushes all of this aside.

(Only four more months.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the last one went too deep lol. I've just been thinking a lot about my personal experience in relationships and how trying to build something according to society's norms (& I'm not talking heteronormativity here, but everything that comes with the expectations we learn to have about relationships, e.g. the appropriate time frame and way for introducing your new partner to your circle...). Since this story dips into the troubles associated with trying to build completely on your own ideas versus society's prescriptions, I thought I'd give it a go. :D Anyway, let me know what you think!


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